As Aakash heard Ayaan's sharp, uncompromising words, the burning anger that had been bubbling within his chest slowly began to fade away. It was replaced by a cold, heavy weight as the realisation finally hit him with the force of a physical blow: his only son's life was resting entirely in Ayaan's hands.
Aakash took a deep, deliberate breath to steady his racing pulse. Moving slowly, he made his way toward the plush leather chair positioned in front of his massive mahogany table and took a seat directly facing Ayaan.
The mask of absolute arrogance that had defined his face just moments earlier was gone, smoothed out into a neutral, calculating expression.
"There is a reason for him to be alive, you say," Aakash murmured, his voice dropping to a low, quiet tone. "So tell me, Ayaan... what is it that you actually want?"
Ayaan, who was casually taking another long drag from the premium cigar, looked at the billionaire through the haze. He slowly exhaled a thick cloud of grey smoke, watching it curl toward the ceiling before he spoke.
"That is exactly what I like to hear," Ayaan said, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "I am not a cruel man, Mr Aakash. I don't have some twisted desire to torture anyone, nor do I want to spend my days blackmailing people for petty wealth. But tell me one thing, Mr Aakash... do you honestly think you can trample on absolutely everyone in this world just because you have a massive bank account?"
Ayaan watched the billionaire closely, a subtle, testing smile playing on his face. It was as if he were deliberately probing the depths of Aakash's character, seeing how the powerful man would react when stripped of his usual leverage.
Aakash, who until now had kept his face perfectly neutral, let out a soft laugh that quickly grew into a wide smile as he processed Ayaan's question.
"Why exactly do you want to know that, kid?" Aakash asked, leaning back into his leather chair. His eyes locked onto Ayaan's, a dangerous spark returning to his gaze. "And don't start acting all high and mighty just because my son's life happens to be in your hands right now. What else have you actually done in your short life to earn the right to stand in my private office and speak to me like this?"
Before Ayaan could even formulate an answer to Aakash's sharp question, the entire skyscraper suddenly shook with a violent, catastrophic jolt.
The structural steel groaned, and the expensive glass panels rattled loudly in their frames. But it wasn't just a physical vibration. The exact moment the building started shaking, the terrifying feeling from earlier—that paralyzing dread and absolute, suffocating fear—crawled up Ayaan's spine like an icy hand wrapping around his heart. The playful, confident smile that had been plastered on his face instantly vanished, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated terror. He could feel his breath hitching in his throat.
Aakash, however, remained sitting calmly in his leather chair. He didn't feel the supernatural weight in the air at all. To him, the world was completely normal, save for the trembling floor. He maintained a perfectly calm face as he watched Ayaan's sudden, dramatic shift in posture.
"So much mighty talk," Aakash scoffed, looking at Ayaan's pale face with deep disappointment. "Yet you are scared out of your wits by a mere, everyday earthquake. Tch."
Aakash turned his head and casually spat on the pristine floor, entirely dismissing the young man's grand stance from a moment ago.
The massive quake rippled across the entire expanse of the city, shaking buildings and rattling windows. The vast majority of the citizens dismissed it as a simple tectonic shift, a minor geological anomaly. But miles away, far from the lavish office of Aakash and the trembling form of Ayaan, a seasoned man in his mid-50s stood in a well-lit room, a look of profound shock overtaking his features as the vibrations rolled through the floorboards.
"This dread... this absolute fear I am feeling right now..." the man muttered to himself, his voice tight with anxiety. "This is absolutely not a normal earthquake."
Without wasting another second, he turned away from his desk, hurried out of the room, and began walking rapidly toward the front exit door of his house.
"Father, where on earth are you going in such a rush? Don't tell me you are actually afraid of a little earthquake and decided to run away!" a cheerful, sweet voice called out from the direction of the dining table.
The older man stopped in his tracks, a soft chuckle escaping his throat as he heard those familiar, teasing words. He turned his head toward the source of the sound. Sitting at the dining table was Ishani, a plate piled high with rice sitting in front of her. One of her cheeks was completely puffed out, stuffed full of food as she looked at him with wide, curious eyes.
"There is absolutely no need to worry your pretty little head about it, Ishani," her father said warmly. He walked over and gently pinched her full cheek, causing her to let out a muffled complaint. "And no, I am most definitely not running away from an earthquake. I just have some urgent work I need to take care of."
With that, he let go of her cheek, turned on his heel, and exited the house, leaving the safety of his home behind.
On the other side of the city, the chaotic sequence of events had fractured. Ayaan was no longer in Aakash's office; he had somehow broken away from the situation and was now making his hurried way back toward his own neighborhood.
"What is this horrific dread? What is this fear I keep feeling over and over again?" Ayaan thought frantically to himself, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as his boots practically flew across the pavement. "Where is this terrifying feeling even coming from?"
Desperate for answers, he turned his thoughts inward, speaking to the entity bound to his soul. 'Hey... you. The one living inside my head. Do you know anything about what's happening right now?' He waited, hoping the ancient voice would offer a snarky comment or a piece of crucial guidance, but he received absolutely no reply. The voice remained entirely dead and silent.
The further he walked through the crowded streets, the more a chilling realization began to settle into his bones. The city had completely lost its voice. The constant, ambient sound of life—the static grinding of industrial machines, the roar of traffic, the endless chatter of pedestrians—was entirely gone. There was nothing to be heard. It was a suffocating, unnatural vacuum of absolute silence.
After what felt like an eternity of walking through the quiet ghost town, Ayaan finally reached his apartment building. He hurried up the steps and pushed the door open. The very moment the lock clicked and the door swung wide, a sharp, commanding voice boomed across the living room.
"KEEP YOUR SHOES OUTSIDE!" Sunidhi screamed directly from the kitchen, her voice cutting through his internal panic like a knife.
Ayaan didn't even think about arguing. Without a single word, he kicked off his heavy boots, stepped onto the tiled floor, and walked straight over to the sofa, letting his exhausted body plop down heavily onto the cushions.
"Wake me up the exact moment dinner is completely ready," Ayaan called out toward the kitchen, his voice muffled as he buried his face in a pillow. "I am going to take a quick nap."
He closed his eyes tightly, desperately hoping that sleep would find him, clear his chaotic mind, and wash away the lingering tendrils of that overwhelming dread. But the moment his eyelids shut, a sharp humming resonance began to vibrate inside his skull.
"Oi. Wake up, you lazy brat," the ancient voice suddenly echoed in his mind, breaking its silence. "Do you seriously still want to remain this weak? Why on earth are you taking a nap right now?"
Ayaan's eyes snapped open at the sound of the voice. He sat up slightly, speaking back in his thoughts with an edge of frustration. 'How am I supposed to become strong, though? Tell me that.'
"I absolutely cannot tell you how you will become stronger," the voice countered smoothly, its tone dripping with a mix of amusement and arrogance. "There is absolutely no fun in simply handing you the answers. If you truly want to gain real strength, then search for it yourself. Search for the power... the power that is already resting deep within you."
Before Ayaan could press for a clearer explanation, the voice went completely silent again, retreating back into the dark corners of his consciousness.
Ayaan sat on the edge of the sofa, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of the cryptic riddles. The power is within me? What does that even mean? Does he just mean raw physical strength? He thought back to his training. Even though he had spent months enduring the harsh elements of the mountain peaks, he still had no concrete idea how to properly elevate his cultivation rank. He had tried everything he read about—sitting in the perfect lotus position for hours, regulating his breathing, trying to channel the hidden energies of the world—but no matter how long he sat still, absolutely nothing happened. He was still just a beginner Sadhaka.
"Oi! Come into the kitchen for a little bit!" Sunidhi's voice suddenly called out, breaking his train of thought.
Ayaan sighed, pushing himself up from the sofa. He walked toward the kitchen doorway, but as he approached, he had to consciously duck his head. His tall frame, forged by the mountain, made the standard apartment doorways feel entirely too small for him now.
"Yeah? What do you need?" Ayaan asked, leaning against the doorframe and looking at his sister.
"I have to run down to the market to buy some milk. I completely forgot to pick it up earlier," Sunidhi explained, wiping her hands on a towel. "Until I get back, can you please just look after the stove so that the dinner doesn't burn?"
Without even waiting for a single word of agreement or a reply from him, she untied her apron, grabbed her keys, and practically breezed past him out the front door.
"Well... that was definitely more of a direct command than a polite request," Ayaan mumbled to himself, shaking his head.
Left with no choice, he walked over and stood directly in front of the gas stove where the large pot of dinner was slowly simmering. The moment Ayaan stepped within arm's reach of the appliance, something bizarre occurred. The blue fire beneath the pot, which had been burning at a perfectly steady, low pace, suddenly began to flicker violently. A split second later, the flames roared to life, expanding and burning with an intense, raging heat, as if someone had just poured a whole bottle of highly flammable kerosene directly onto the burner.
Outside, the subtle aftershocks of the earthquake that had been terrorizing the citizens finally ground to a complete halt. And deep beneath the asphalt, the mysterious crimson liquid that had been creeping through the underground veins of the city stopped flowing entirely, settling into a stagnant, hidden freeze.
Miles away from the apartment, Ishani's father was navigating a solitary, quiet path that cut away from the main roads, leading directly toward the dense entrance of the ancient forest. Despite the strange aura hanging over the region, the older man maintained a perfectly calm, undisturbed look on his face. His steady steps brought him right to the boundary line where the concrete of the city gave way to the wild, tangled roots of the woods. On the surface, the entrance looked completely normal—just trees, dirt, and decaying leaves.
The man slowly dropped down to his knees, lowering his body to the earth. He reached out with a weathered hand, gathering a heavy clump of the dark soil directly into his palm. He brought the earth close to his face and took a deep, measuring breath, smelling the dirt.
Normally, soil that had been exposed to natural rain and crisp sunlight would carry a distinct, fresh, earthy scent. But the moment the aroma entered his nose, the calm, unbothered demeanor he had maintained completely shattered. His eyes widened to their absolute limits, staring blankly at the ground in sheer, unadulterated shock.
His hands, which were still holding the loose dirt, began to shake like a leaf caught in a storm. His brow twitched violently as his mind raced to process the sensory information. What had entered his nose was absolutely not the scent of regular earth. In fact, it didn't smell like soil at all. It was a completely different, metallic fragrance.
The unmistakable, thick smell of pure, fresh blood was radiating intensely from the very ground beneath his feet.
"After so long..." the man whispered into the quiet air, his voice trembling with an ancient weight as he stared at his stained palms. "It has actually started all over again."